"Health, monsieur!"
"A thousand thanks."
"Set 'em up again, baptème, you blas' Canayjin nigger!"
"What does he say!" inquired the landlord, on the verge of being offended.
"Shut up, Potdevin!" said the only man who understood English, fearful lest the second treat should go astray.
"Take!" cried Spoon, in a at of reconciliation, throwing down a five dollar bill; and at the sight of the money, Potdevin, true landlord, proceeded with the pouring out of the beverages into very small glasses with very thick bottoms.
It was funny, when he had precipitated himself from the door, as above said, to contemplate the fellow with his low hat on one side and far down on his nose, his swelling shirt-front, striped breeches, and mighty brass chain, leading the trooping crowd like some travelling juggler.
All this, however, was election work.
Was it the kind of method Chamilly would approve? There was a short and certain answer.
Which then of Haviland's friends supplied Spoon with money for these only too obvious processes of vote-obtaining. It was not the Honorable, it was not De La Lande, it would not be penurious Benoit?